"This is Cher and this is Inga."
Diver Dan said to me.
Two lovely girls, one short one tall,
A welcome sight to see.
The short one, Cher, was dark and cute.
Inga was blond and tall.
I set my sights on Cher at once,
Knowing that I might fall.
Café Benet in Vieux Carré,
In early morning light,
Our crullers dunked in chickory,
We'd all been up all night.
I talked and talked and tried to win,
The heart of that brunette.
To no avail, I tried and failed,
And nowhere did I get.
I later asked if Dan might know,
Her number or last name.
He told me no, and then he said,
That I'd misplayed the game.
He said that I'd caught Inga's eye,
For me her heart had yearned.
But sadly I'd found out too late,
To Sweden she'd returned.
And so it is with guys like me,
We always miss the train.
I didn't have a clue back then,
And clueless I remain.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2010
About this poem:True story